


Not if the world were ending

by tawg



Category: Stonehenge Apocalypse (2010), Supernatural
Genre: AU, Community: blindfold_spn, M/M, Novakcest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-02
Updated: 2011-08-02
Packaged: 2017-10-22 03:15:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/233131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tawg/pseuds/tawg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jacob's body is the same as Jimmy's, and that means he knows exactly how to put Jimmy back together. Twincest. Written for blindfold-spn, round 5.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not if the world were ending

Jacob isn’t surprised when Jimmy shows up on his doorstep. Four years since he went missing, three years and four months since Amelia had called (they’d never gotten along) and notified him with more bitterness than she deserved that Jimmy had up and left, had a mental break.

“Nice to know it runs in the family,” Jacob had replied, and she’d hung up on him. She and Claire disappeared too, a little over six months after that. He hadn’t been able to find them again. The Case of the Missing Novaks, another crazy conspiracy to entertain him.

And then Jimmy had finally turned up, between Jacob paying his rent and realising he’d have to skimp on the groceries for a while as a result (because he wasn’t going to dip into his slender research fund, not with the earthquakes that were rocking the globe, not with the reports of white light in the sky). Jimmy had turned up, and looked at Jacob with empty eyes, and his lips pressed closed.

Jacob stared at his twin brother, looking lost and forlorn, with the light morning rain catching in his hair. “Come on then,” he finally said, stepping back from the doorway. And Jimmy came home.

*

Things hadn’t been quite right between them since Jacob had gotten the scholarship, since someone had given him some numbers to play with and slapped the label ‘prodigy’ on him. Jacob had always been convinced that Jimmy went and got religion just because he couldn’t keep up. He shoves Jimmy into a hot shower, and sits on the toilet seat going through Jimmy’s pockets. They don’t talk, a pastime they’ve shared for many, many years.

Eventually the taps are shut off, the pipes stop groaning. Jimmy steps out into the cold air and coiling steam. He stares at Jacob, and Jacob stares back. He hasn’t seen Jimmy for over ten years (why bother counting?) but he still looks familiar, still has the same face that Jacob sees in the mirror when he can’t avoid it.

“You look like shit,” he says.

Jimmy Novak, with Jacob’s face and their mother’s maiden name, with his long limbs and wet hair and skin starting to pimple in the cold air. Jimmy pulls on the track pants and the MIT jumper that Jacob had dug out of the pile of ‘probably clean’ clothes. He moves without any embarrassment or shame, and Jacob watches him with the same fascination he’s always had for his brother. When Jimmy reaches out to take his coat from its resting place on Jacob’s lap, Jacob grabs Jimmy’s wrist, wraps his fingers around it and strokes his thumb back and forth across the skin just below the palm of his hand. Jimmy freezes, and it’s the biggest reaction Jacob has gotten from him since he turned up.

Jacob twists Jimmy’s arm, turns it so the inside of his wrist is facing up, and then he lowers his head and presses his lips to the soft, fragile skin. He can hear Jimmy breathing, hear a long shuddering breath that is nothing like his own calm inhale- _hold_ -exhale, his breath a warm gust across damp skin. He parts his lips, allows his tongue to lick a thin stripe across the green and blue lines of Jimmy’s veins, a different pattern to Jacob’s own, but they pump the same blood. A hot line of intimate moisture, before he pulls back slightly, before Jimmy snatches his arm away as if it has been burned. A long pause during which Jacob keeps his head bowed, in which he can feel Jimmy staring down at him.

His movements are sharp and coherent, snatching his clothes out of Jacob’s lap, from the pile around his feet. He stalks out of the bathroom and down the hall. Jacob stays still, his lips closed, his eyes closed. The taste of skin, and soap, and hard water dissolving on his tongue. Jacob savours it.

*

Jimmy eats nearly everything in the house, and then sleeps for three days. Jacob lives on crackers and peanut butter, the student’s hors d'oeuvres. In that time he should be contacting the police, letting them know that his good-boy brother has turned up. He should be keeping an eye on the news, because he’s sure the string of natural disasters haven’t stopped. He should be doing his stupid radio show, because his e-mail is going to be clogged with typo-ridden hate after this neglect. He should answer his cell phone...

But he doesn’t.

He stands in the doorway of his living room, staring at his brother passed out on the couch. Lying on his stomach, one arm hanging over the side, hand mashed awkwardly against the floor. He means to move it, bring it up to rest by Jimmy’s face.

He doesn’t.

He stands there, and wonders if he’s always been so fucked up.

*

On the fourth day, Jimmy wakes. Jacob hauls him up and half-carries him to the bedroom, dumps Jimmy on the unmade bed. He wants his couch back, damnit. But Jimmy is staring up at him with that lost look, with his hands hanging loose and absent between his knees, his feet are naked and when Jacob looks down he can see the long lines of Jimmy’s toes against the dark blue of his carpet. He changes the angle of his eyes and Jimmy is staring back at him, two identical shades of blue locked against each other. Jimmy doesn’t look away.

“What happened to you?”

Jimmy’s head tilts a little to one side, like he doesn’t understand the question, like he doesn’t have the energy to answer. He looks older. Not elderly, just... he looks like something that has been around for a long, long time. Like he belongs in one of Joseph’s ruins. He looks at Jacob like he doesn’t quite see him.

Jacob sinks to his knees, his ribs pressed against Jimmy’s knees. He puts a hand on the side of Jimmy’s face, slides his palm over blunt stubble. Slides his hand back into his brother’s hair, mussed and tangled and oily once more. Slides his fingers deep into those tangles until he can’t pull them out, until all he can do is grip them tighter, fisting his hand and yanking that hair, and then perhaps something sparks in Jimmy’s eyes, a sense of here-ness.

Jacob presses his forehead against Jimmy’s, breathes the same air and feels their heat sink into one another’s bodies. With his other hand he grabs Jimmy’s wrist, lets his fingernails bite into the skin and hears Jimmy’s breath hitch. Runs his hand hard up Jimmy’s torso, digging his fingers into the shape of his ribs, dragging his thumb hard across the soft circle of a nipple. Pauses with his palm over Jimmy’s heart, his fingers reaching up, the tips tugging down the neckline of that old jumper from that stupid university, fingers reaching out to the skin underneath, finding the hard line of a collarbone, stroking there. Stroking the warm hard angle with tiny motions, small slides back and forth.

Jimmy sucks in a long, uneven breath and his body shudders as he holds it. Shudders, and he presses his forehead firmly against Jacob’s, slides his head down until his nose is pressed by Jacob’s ear, the corner of his eye pressed awkwardly against Jacob’s cheekbone. It’s natural for Jacob to turn his head then, to press his lips against Jimmy’s jaw. A dry kiss of parted lips, a simple act of comfort. And with that press of mouth against skin, Jimmy exhales.

Jacob presses his mouth against Jimmy’s skin, licks his lips so they’re moist enough to catch on Jimmy’s jaw, dips his head and presses a damp kiss to the soft skin just below the line of his jaw, the tender skin of his neck, darting his tongue out to catch the tiniest sliver of taste. Jimmy tilts his head further to one side, offers more of that expanse of vulnerability up, tilts his head over and back until his throat his bared. When Jacob pulls back just a little, he sees that Jimmy’s eyes aren’t closed, feels Jimmy’s fingers brush against the worn fabric of his t-shirt. Little invitations and he accepts them all, presses his face close and inhales deeply, breathes Jimmy in and pulls him close and presses hard clumsy kisses along the lines of his throat.

He presses gently against Jimmy’s chest, and Jimmy sinks back onto Jacob’s bed, the MIT jumper riding up and showing a pale line of flesh. Jacob pushes it a little higher, dips his head and kisses the skin beside Jimmy’s belly button. Kisses along the top of those sweatpants, and Jacob lets his lower lip catch and drag on the skin there. Drags his mouth along until he reaches the sharp angle of a hip, sucks the places where skin is pulled tight over bone. Sucks wet kisses that end in the graze of teeth over tired skin, making Jimmy’s breath hitch, making his hands clench in Jacob’s dirty sheets.

He pauses there, spends long moments worshiping the aesthetic beauty of a ball and socket joint, of the changing angle as Jimmy coils beneath him. Not moving, not writhing. Jimmy had always been so neatly contained, a box so handsome people were fooled into thinking that the contents were irrelevant. Jacob touches Jimmy, grinding the heel of his palm against Jimmy’s other hipbone. Hot mouth and hard touches and every element of it completely loving.

He pushes that jumper higher, pushes it up to Jimmy’s armpits and crawls onto the bed to advance his attack, letting his mouth wander higher to map out the hard line where Jimmy’s ribs just out over his stomach, letting his tongue taste the furrows made by skin stretched over those fingers of bone. He tastes pale skin, loving the whiteness of it, loving the way it smells like Jimmy, so foreign and so familiar. He finds the freckle over Jimmy’s right nipple, the perfect mirror to the one over Jacob’s left, and laves his tongue over it. Wet wide strokes that catch the edge of Jimmy’s nipple, making it pucker. A tiny section of flesh and blood and tingling nerves, begging for attention. Jacob ignores it, shifts his mouth higher to suck on the long perfect lines of Jimmy’s collarbones, their curve and press, the slight shift as Jimmy makes small motions – tipping his head back, flexing the muscles of his arms as his hands grasp sheets. His fluttering pulse is visible at his neck, and Jacob sucks there for a long moment, his mouth wide and hot and Jimmy gasps beneath him, almost too soft to hear.

Jacob allows their bodies to touch then, sliding one knee between Jimmy’s thigh, his leg hovering over Jimmy’s crotch until he feels the faintest brush of hardness through two layers of fabric. He sinks down, lets his leg rest against Jimmy’s hardness, lets his body respond to the confirmation that Jimmy is still the same, lets his own swelling harness press against the concave yield of Jimmy’s stomach. He returns his mouth to Jimmy’s collarbones, licking at the notch between them, running his fingernails along the length and then tapping the side of his thumb at the ridge above Jimmy’s breastbone, as fond as ever of the sound he can make against Jimmy’s very bones, the echo of it in his chest.

Jimmy’s body has awakened under his touches, little twists of hips against thigh, his head thrown back and chest heaving. Jimmy had always kept himself so contained, been afraid somehow of letting loose, but he’d never been able to repress the way he responded to Jacob, to Jacob’s body. His hips twitch, pressing his hardness upwards even though his back remains a straight line of physical denial, but Jacob is not deterred. He grinds down against Jimmy, grabs Jimmy by the hip, slides his hand back to grab his ass, feeling firm flesh and pulling his brother closer, grinding their bodies together as he bites down on the aching desperation of a hardened nipple, as he sucks a deep dark bruise onto Jimmy’s neck. And finally, finally, Jimmy’s hands fly up to grip Jacob’s shoulders, his mouth falls open, and Jimmy comes undone.

Jacob files all the little details away. The arch of Jimmy’s back, the wordless sound that escapes his throat, the way his eyes scrunch closed, leaving his face dominated by furrowed brows and tangled eyelashes and a gaping mouth that reveals the cavernous emptiness inside. Jimmy has changed over the years, but Jacob can still see that space in his brother that he had never been able to fill, that Jimmy had never let him fill. He looks down and stares at the dark smear soaking through the thin material of the track pants, smells the musk of it. “Jimmy,” he sighs. The gentle lines of Jimmy’s softening cock, and Jacob is so caught up in the hunger he feels that the first touch of Jimmy’s hands at his belt makes him jump.

Jimmy is ruthless, tearing Jacob’s pants open, shoving stiff denim down his narrow hips as far as it will go in their position. He fists a hand in the material of Jacob’s jeans, holding him in place, and then grabs Jacob’s cock and jacks it without finesse or delicacy. A violent act of anger and betrayal, a hard look on his face as he stares up at his brother, and Jacob’s orgasm is pulled out of him, ripped right out and splattered all over Jimmy’s chest, leaving him wrecked and panting and incoherent. Leaving both of them trembling as Jacob’s head hangs loose between his shoulders, as they struggle to suck in shared breaths of air.

“He went to you,” Jimmy says, breaking that long and aching silence between them, and Jacob thinks it’s perfectly fitting that his brother makes absolutely no sense. “He went to you first, but you didn’t hear him. You didn’t _believe_ but I did.” Jimmy’s face is broken, his eyes wide and blue and betrayed. “If you’d believed then I wouldn’t…” He trails off, and all Jacob can think to do is kiss him, to press their mouths together and swallow up the things he doesn’t understand. Curled up together in Jacob’s bed, sweaty and stained and staring into one another’s eyes. Jacob’s whole world has been cut down to Jimmy, and he’s almost certain that when Jimmy looks back, it’s Jacob he sees.

Time passes, and their kisses slow, and Jimmy finally starts to speak.

Jacob listens. Listens because Jimmy is his brother, his other half. Because Jimmy found God when he was seventeen and Jacob was already at college, and even though Jacob was the one living in another state, Jimmy was the one who left him behind. Because Jacob threw away his career based on one weird photograph and an irrational need to make a point about believing in stupid things. He listens because his house is trembling through an earthquake even though he lives nowhere near a fault line and because the sky hasn’t been dark since Jimmy had turned up.

Jacob doesn’t believe in angels, and he doesn’t believe in God, and the story Jimmy tells him is crazy and nonsensical. But it’s an explanation and an apology, and Jacob is so relieved to have both of those things within his grasp that he accepts them.

“It’s over,” Jimmy says. “Everything,” and Jacob believes him.

He pulls Jimmy close, wraps himself around his little brother, holds him and breathes him in and in all honesty he can’t quite tell the difference between his body and Jimmy’s any more. Because they’ve always shared the same body, always. He holds his brother close, and presses a kiss to his temple. And they wait for the world to end.


End file.
